Embracing solitude (1)

Solitary smile
Heart cuddling itself. Sigh!
Warm slippers, warm tea



Understanding patience

You see
My desire to be patient in all matters most especially when
patience is not needed has fallen, with disturbing winds,
though a series of interpretations and misunderstanding.

I seek to be patient
That even in the moment of distress
When anxiety shares my apple
Or distress give its burning hug
Then, should my shoulder be
propped high by swollen lungs,
and let to fall under
the refreshing sound of

I seek to be patient
So even when desire lifts my feet,
and spins me, like the excitements
of fan blades caught in their jubilation
of purpose, even then, I want to be let to fall.
To land in a walk.
Where the motions of running
brown horses, can fill my vision
Whilst my heart abstains from
mimicking theirs.

I seek to be patient
Let the rusty anchors that rip open
the earth behind me,
let it be left shackled
only to the dock.
I seek to drift in patience.


I don’t hate you
I am just overcome
but a laziness
one that demands my heart rest
And my attention, slack,

I don’t hate you

Forgive my disinterest
in knowing, what
a beautiful soul
you are

Two cups

Leaning closer
The streaks of dancing water droplets
travelled before my eyes
They swayed as to
the beautiful brass sounds
that flirts with the listeners:
a seduction by Miles Davis.
From home, they slither around
warming my insides
My taste is caressed by a fullness
I am excited by the cold without
as its contrast with my insides.
Accentuating, with pleasure,
the richness of home.
My only displeasure comes in
the way I am getting satisfied.
I fully desire
a long lasting hunger;
one that makes me,
perpetually to last
in this moment, where
I am filled by you. . .
with you.

I made two cups of tea
and I am not sure
If I speak to the tea
or your absence

In cahoot with illusions

The grotesque beauty
of nothingness lies beside me.
This cuddle is warm and smells of anxiety.
Beyond my night white window,
it peers at me through eyes and disguise.
Posed as trees,
as sky, as darkness, as monsters and illusions.
Its howlings are covered in the screams
of humans trapped in flying plane engines
Their cries of excitement
dwarfs the hearing of the bat
“I just want to hang out in peace”
he says to the owl

I peer at this beauty,
The grotesque one I mentioned earlier,
it is full this time.
Filled with the tiny legs of insects,
mainly spiders and colored millipede
or centipedes, and rat claws.
But they are overshadowed by the other
Those ones that lie beside me;
even when I walk,
even when I have dinner,
even when I look upon love through
my unuttered words

I know this beauty peers at me
with its grotesque finesse
its lips blossomed under the stars.
In the company of its friends
Those it has known since they,
on quiet streets,
detonated fireworks and twisted
bike handles.
They all, with curiosity,
I suppose,
peer at me. Through
my white glass closed window
from their cold cuddle.

I think my obstructed sinuses
are in cahoots with my nightmares.

Steady hands

Steady hands
Steady hands
Steady, hands
This illusion of the absence
of crippling anxiety laced
with the long and the
winding streaks of terror
must be made real

[inhale, hold, exhale]

Steady hands
Steady, hands


She loves her
shoes. The red, brownish,
green, blue, shiny, stripped,
clear, rubber, pink
gray, spotted,

Dark skinned fingers
dancing with laces
beneath the steadying breath of
a concentration.

An arched back
speaks to my heart
saying, “I love your

I fear the day
when you won’t need
my relatively massive hands. That
day when you will
no longer wrap those
soft fingers of yours around
my index and middle,
tug at me, pull me up the stairs,
and in that resonating smile, stare up
at me and declare “shoooes”

The one who plunged deep

The wonders that befall the heart
one that seeks knowledge
and plunges itself
into the white water of understanding
Are not always flavored with pleasure

I heard
That a man of understanding
is prone to silence
A deep silence,
filled with clouds, awe and
Dusty winds.
He leans in and squints at the words
that litter the street
Those words that flow from the
Orifices of the
confident? Like the baffled cat
He leans closer
His thoughts compel him
to search within this assuredness.
Maybe in the avalanche of sounds
and gesture, there may,
maybe, be wisdom

And so
drenched in his
Thick dark oblivion of hope,
he ponders the words of ignorance,
seeking validity
for the excuse he grants the speaker.


It is easy
for the heart to loose
its grip. Holding on to
ropes covered in mustard and
age old syrup; The intangible nature
of hope.
“Let go of your struggle”
I doubt, “and you, believer, allow gravity
show you its affection”.

And so reality, with a hunched lean,
peered into the eyes of hope.
searching for the lion
Whose house is covered
in the lyrics of a roar, and
from whom he has smelled
the attraction of fear.

I sleep at day
And walk at night
These eyes burn from
His strong steer.

reality”, says hope.